The Sixty-First Second Page 5

  *CHAPTER V*

  He had arrived at the studio building and entered the lower vestibulebefore he was aware of the lateness of the hour. He pulled out hiswatch, and found that it was almost midnight.

  "Good heavens!" he said, taking a step back. "I quite forgot the time."He started to go, then turned to the switchboard. "Could I telephone upto Mrs. Kildair's apartment?"

  "Go right up, Mr. Beecher," said the hallboy, rising.

  "Are you certain?" he said doubtfully.

  "Sure. Orders is to send up any one who calls."

  A little surprised, he entered the elevator. At that moment a ringsounded, and on the indicator the figure 4 dropped.

  "That's her floor now," said the boy, starting up the elevator.

  At the fourth he came face to face with Garraboy, who saw him with astart of surprise and a sudden look of malice. The two nodded, withoutcordiality.

  "Hello," said Garraboy, looking at him with a curious fixity which heremembered after. "What are you doing here?"

  "What are you?" said Beecher abruptly.

  "Some valuable information to volunteer?" persisted the other, with adeliberate accent of irony.

  "Perhaps."

  "Indeed? Then you have come to assist in restoring the ring," saidGarraboy in a low voice; and on his young, wrinkled face was a faintglimmer of a smile.

  "Perhaps," said Beecher, flushing angrily. "Does that annoy you?"

  "Not in the least," said Garraboy drily. "On the contrary, I aminterested--exceedingly so." He lifted his hat slightly and steppedinto the elevator.

  "Now, what in the devil has he got in his mind?" thought Beecherangrily. "And what was his idea in coming back? Nice look he gave me.Thought he had such an all-fired important engagement that he had tohurry away!"

  He tried the door absent-mindedly, and found it locked. A long momentafter he had pressed a second time upon the bell, the door was opened byRita Kildair herself, who drew back in evident astonishment.

  "You?" she said, frowning.

  "I was going to telephone," he said, a little embarrassed; "but theytold me downstairs to come up."

  "Quite right."

  "Look here, Rita," he said, with a sudden feeling of intuition. "I knowyou probably think I'm a prime representative of the pinhead family, butI'm awfully broken up by what happened. Can't I help out some way?"

  "'Look here, Rita. Can't I help you out some way?'"]

  "Is that why you've come?" she said slowly.

  "Of course," he said, meeting her scrutiny with a puzzled glance.

  She considered a moment and then said abruptly:

  "Go in and sit down. I'm busy at the telephone. I'll be back in amoment."

  The studio was still blazing with the electric chandeliers, thedining-table still crowded with the untouched dinner, with that sense ofdesolation and fatigue which the aftermath of a banquet presents.Lighted up as it was, the studio had none of the mystery thatcharmed--rather, something of the cruel garishness of the white sun.

  He moved about aimlessly, arms crossed, his imagination repeopling theroom with the strongly accentuated personalities who had gathered therean hour before, saying to himself over and over:

  "Now, why the deuce did Garraboy come back?"

  He approached the table and abstractedly took an almond and beganmunching it. Then, perceiving the chafing-dish, reached over, with asmile, and lifted the cover. But, at the moment his hand wasoutstretched, his eyes, obeying some mysterious instinct, rose to a longVenetian mirror opposite. In the clear reflection that showed thebalcony of the second floor, he distinctly beheld the head of a womanprotruding a little beyond the curtain.

  "What the deuce!" he said, covering the chafing-dish with a bang. "Itcan't be Rita--who then?"

  All at once he comprehended. If the ring had not been found in thesearch, it was because it had been concealed in the room, and the womanin the balcony was a detective set to watch the trap--if the real thiefhad the daring to return.

  At this moment Rita Kildair entered from the bedroom.

  "Good heavens, Rita!" he said directly. "You don't mean to say yoususpect me?"

  "What do you mean?" she said, stopping short, her glance instinctivelyseeking the balcony.

  "I mean you've stuck a detective up there to see what I do the moment Icome into the studio. Good heavens! what do you think I came for?"

  "My dear Teddy," she said, frowning at the stupidity of her spy, "isthere any one who can't be suspected? Do you blame me?"

  "No, I suppose not," he blurted out. "Only, it gives a fellow a deucedcreepy feeling to have a couple of eyes looking through him from behindthe curtain. I say, why don't you search the place? The ring must behere!"

  "That is possible, of course," she said thoughtfully, her lip betweenher little teeth, an impulsive movement when she was plunged in thought.

  "Or are you waiting for the thief to come back here and try to recoverit? Of course, that's the plan."

  "There's one thing," she said, with a quick, imperative gesture, lookingat him closely, "I want you to remember. There is nothing public to beknown. Whatever is done must be done quietly."

  "Oh, of course," he said hastily. "I say, Rita, let me try to work thisout with you--give me your confidence! I wish you would."

  She considered a moment, as though puzzled by his offer.

  "I don't think it will ever be found," she said, shaking her head andlooking at him.

  "But you suspect some one," he persisted.

  She hesitated a moment, and then shook her head.

  "No."

  The second's delay convinced him.

  "Man or woman?"

  "It is only a speculation," she answered slowly, "but I believe it was awoman."

  "Both times?"

  "Both times."

  He took a turn, moodily disturbed, and came back.

  "Tell me this, Rita," he said. "Who else came back here tonight?"

  "Garraboy," she answered slowly, "and--Mrs. Cheever."

  "Mrs. Cheever!" he exclaimed, astonished. "Why, she was on the verge ofprostration."

  Mrs. Kildair smiled a thin, elusive smile, and was about to reply whenthere came a ring at the door.

  Instantly her manner changed. Placing her finger on her lips, at thesame time sending him a glance that commanded the utmost silence, shetook his hand and led him softly from the studio, through her bedroominto the further obscurity of the dining-room, which was lit only by theweak reflection which filtered through from the hall.

  "Sit here, and not a sound," she said, placing her lips so close to hisear that he felt the warm contact of her cheek. She gave him a slightpressure of her fingers, and went back into the studio by way of herbedroom, closing both doors.

  Beecher, left in the darkness, strained every nerve to catch the soundthat would reveal the identity of the new arrival. It seemed to himthat he heard the sound of another woman's voice, and then presently, asa shadow came to him through the twilight of the hall, he heard Mrs.Kildair saying:

  "--to telephone. Be back in a moment."

  The next instant she was at his side, pressing his hand to prevent thewhisper that was on his lips. They sat thus side by side for what seemeda full five minutes before she rose and silently passed into the hallagain. Beecher remained in complete bewilderment, unable to detect theslightest sound of the conversation that was taking place. That thesame test was being applied to the new-comer which he himself haddetected, he understood; but which one of the many guests it might be,he could not discover.

  At the end of an interminable interval, he heard a few faint sounds, theclosing of the outer door, and presently the rustle of Mrs. Kildair'sapproach.

  "Come now," she said, waiting for him in the hall.

  "Who came back then?" he asked eagerly.

  She shook her head.

  "I can not tell you--at least, not now. There are reasons why it wouldnot be quite fair," she
said. Then, seeing his irritation, she tappedhim on the arm and added: "Listen, Teddy. It is too late to talk overthings. Run away now. Come in tomorrow at five."

  "I want to help, you know," he said, taking her hand, guiltily consciousof the smile with which she examined him--a smile that seemed to convicthim of treason. For the moment, however, the memory of the youngerwoman was dimmed. He was conscious only of the indefinite lure ofmystery which Rita Kildair always exerted over his curiosity the momentthey were alone.

  "Look here, Rita," he said impulsively, "I should think, in a case likethis, you'd want all the help you can get!"

  Her smile disappeared. She looked at him a moment with almost amasculine penetration, and then, her smile returning, said quietly:

  "It's curious, but each person who came back here tonight came back justto--help."

  Not only her words, but her manner, struck him with a sense ofdiscomfort.

  "Come in tomorrow," she said, pushing him gently toward the door. Shemade a quick little motion with her fingers, looked at him with apenetrating seriousness, and disappeared, leaving him thoroughlyconfused and irritable.

  "Why, she acts as though she suspected me!" he said, remembering hercontinual examination. "Who the deuce came back then? What's Garraboyin all this? Does he suspect me, too, and has he been saying anythingto Rita? What is terrible in such a situation is that any one may besuspected." Suddenly he perceived that he had repeated the very wordsthat Nan Charters had used in the coupe.

  "By George, what a rotten mess! I feel like a pickpocket already," hesaid, with a sudden cold horror in his back. "Why shouldn't Ritasuspect me as well as any one else? This is no pleasure party; this isserious--dead serious. I've got to work it out!"